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Uploaded 28/10/02
StArt Artists in Malta
An old tenement building close
to the harbour in Valletta seems an unlikely location in which to
launch an organisation for the promotion of avant garde art in Malta,
especially as the building is believed to have been used as a brothel.
Yet this summer the building was chosen for Cityspaces, an exhibition
of the work of 11 of the country's artists, led by Raphael Vella.
Originally, he says, the idea was house the exhibition in the streets
and squares of the city, which proved difficult 'because of the
usual, notorious red tape demanding permits from a multitude of
authorities'. Instead, the tenement building was chosen because
it was empty.
'Can a space ever be described as being "empty"?'
Vella asks. 'When I visited the uninhabited property, I saw ten
empty rooms on five floors, all resembling one another and containing
(at most) nothing more than a tiny sink with a bucket propped underneath.
At the back of each room, the smallest of lavatories: ten identical
lavatories. On the roof, a heavily weathered shed with a whole wall
built of wood ('Reminds me of Auschwitz,' one artist commented).
It was obvious that whoever had lived here hardly enjoyed a basic
standard of living, let alone contemplated the principles of décor.
There was nothing much to say about the place, except that it was
ugly and rather depressing. But the fact that it might have been
a brothel made it much more interesting.
'But was the place really "empty"? Is the lack of furniture - the
most visible sign of human presence in a building - a sufficient
condition to qualify a space as being empty? More important (and
more difficult to answer): how do you represent "emptiness"? From
the void of Yves Klein to the silence of John Cage and on to the
contemporary negative spaces of Rachel Whiteread, this question
has haunted the minds of artists and composers at least since Malevitch
painted his White on White series around 1918. To discover, quite
by chance, the safe refuge of a void: the silent dream of every
artist!'
The discovery of the building, however, did not alter Vella's requirements,
including that the art should demonstrate a process rather than
a finished work and that it should not be for sale. And, just as
if Cityspaces had been located in the streets and squares of Valletta,
the installations were to relate to their location, which was also
an alternative space - not a museum or gallery. In fact, the alternative
space could be seen as a deliberate criticism of the gallery used
in Valletta for contemporary shows.
Given the reputation of the building, it is perhaps not surprising
that one of the artists, Mark Mangion, filled his room with a laptop
full of disturbing images surrounded by photographs on the walls
of a couple making love in positions recommended by the Kama
Sutra. Another installation, by Patrick Fenech, also hinted
at the former use of the building. He showed a picture of a semi-nude
model lying on the floor who seems to be dead, especially since
her body is framed by a police-line. But the fact that the photograph
itself is given a religious frame turns the image into an icon.
Sex and religion make excellent bedfellows in art!
Religion, in fact, still seems to haunt Malta's avant garde artists,
which is not surprising given the art and architecture of the Knights
of St John (who ruled Malta from 1530-1798) and the religious festas
that take place all over Malta during the summer. Thus Vella had
a small book called The Student's Catholic Doctrine nailed
to the walls of his blacked-out room, its pages opened at where
they offer proof of the existence of God which is marked by a young
girl's note in pencil, 'for exam.' Vella apologises for dragging
St Augustine into a brothel. And in another room, Pierre Portelli
showed an old armchair covered in wax. Maltese churches everywhere
are ablaze with candles.
Even if the building was once a brothel - or if it was just a home
for the most impoverished of Valletta's citizens - it would nevertheless
have been full of dreams and these were hinted at by Norman Francis
Attard's installation, A Place Called Paradise. His room
had been turned in to a beach complete with an umbrella, deck chair
and red water (signifying blood?) continually circulating between
the sink and the bucket. As the visitors cleared away the sand on
the floor, they could read quotations from Alan Botton's new book,
The Art of Travel - but they also discovered that the 'sand'
was, in fact, sawdust and gave off a wonderful smell. As is usual
in Attard's work, nothing is quite what it seems. It was an outdoor
setting in a built environment that contained a multiplicity of
meanings.
All the artists taking part in Cityspaces have now formed a new
group called StART, one of whose aims is to get the importance of
art recognised by the Maltese educational system. At present, it
provides no art degree at either undergraduate or post-graduate
level. This would be a start in getting the government to recognise
the importance of contemporary art in the country. It is, as Vella
says, part of Malta's future and needs to be varied, vibrant and
encouraged. And a step has clearly been made in the right direction
because the Minister of Culture visited Cityspaces and donated money
so that its catalogue can be published as a hardback. He has also
appointed Attard as a committee member of the newly established
Council of the Arts & Culture to advise on government policy.
Richard Carr
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